


To the end

by Suvroc (cuteandillusion)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Antagonistic Relationship, Crack, Dirty Talk, F/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, a... sexy game of say uncle? hell I dunno, demonically summoned strap-on, top Anathema
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandillusion/pseuds/Suvroc
Summary: A quick request fill for "Crowley/Anathema and a strap-on - top Ana and vaguely canon" turned into 2500 words of smut. Oopsies. PLEASE let me know if I should add other tags - it's a good-natured tryst, although a demon is technically tricked at one point and has to negotiate his  escape (I mean, he's a demon so of course he's going to make a deal that benefits him in the end, right?).
Relationships: Crowley & Anathema Device
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	To the end

“You,” she said, not pointing.

Crowley wasn't even really paying attention, but after a second of pause, he turned. Sure, Book Girl wasn't making any motion, but her eyes bore into him like an auger. He raised his eyebrows and dramatically looked to either side of himself (there was no one). Then, brought his finger to his solar plexus and mouthed “ _me_?”

She nodded. 

Half-smiling, he sauntered forward, all bones and pulleys, his rope-strung legs crisscrossing before him. He stopped before her blazing glare. What was she so up about?

“YOU took my book,” she spat.

Crowley chuffed, leaning to the side. “I did not.”

“YOU ran me OVER!”

“Hey!” he said, bringing his attention back to her face. He had half-a-foot on her so his gaze fell downward, whereas she had to incline her head up determinedly. “I did not! You...”

At that moment, Anathema reached up and forcefully grabbed his chin, causing him to stutter in his thoughts and words. For a human to make physical contact with him was rare – usually his.... whatever... defense thungummy – kept them at least at arms-length, lest they become too enamored and burst into a pyre before they even had the chance to be tempted towards the whateveritwas that he was offering. She glared at him, and he felt his eyes widen in shock and... well, if he were being honest, admiration.  
  
“You owe me.”

“I, er, what?” he stammered, somewhat loosing track of his limbs and vaguely aware his arms were gyrating a bit off-balanced at his side. She smiled at him.

“Look,” she said, hardening the 'k', “I know what you are. You and your,” her brows knitted, “companion. I can see auras.” Releasing him, she crossed her arms over her chest and considered him. “Will you admit you hit me with your car - demon?”

Thoroughly intrigued by this strange human, he brought his appendages under control and considered her. “Eh,” he started, not really caring what she'd said, but contemplating other things that might happen should he admit or refute her request. He thought her hair needed a thorough grooming, first of all. And her gown appeared very heavy and woolen, surely warm in the chilly English air, but not the most comfortable of attire. Itchy on the legs. He knew.

And her face, as close as it was, looked alluringly touchable.

“What if I don't?” he wagered, and it was a wager. Playing with fire was one thing, but playing with the possible wants or disapprovals of a person like Anathema was something with much higher stakes.

She took one step towards him, bringing her chest all but flush against him. “I have, in my pocket, a container of salt. I have no qualms about using it to draw a circle around us and holding you here until you answer me truthfully.”

He guffawed, “yeah sure, like I'd wait for you to do that, puny human.”

Her hands flew to his lapels and he rocked backwards in her surprisingly strong grasp. “I am no puny human,” she fumed, “I am a witch!”

Still amused, but with ever-growing appreciation, he let his glasses slide down slightly to peer at her with one golden serpentine eye. “Sssso what does that mean?” he queried.

With a shake she brought his nose to hers. “It means,” she hissed back through clenched teeth, “I've already drawn it.”

His human heart stopped.

His demonic self gulped.

For fuck’s sake.

His glasses now slightly askew, he glanced side to side and sure enough, he'd been so concerned with presenting an air of nonchalance, he'd gallivanted straight into her trap. 

“Bravo,” he said quietly, and meant it. “But,” he followed before she had a chance to speak, “my question remains.” She hesitated, and he continued. “Now that you trapped your demon, what are you going to do with him?” 

“If he doesn't admit he can't drive for shit you mean?”

Crowley winced and sneered at her.

“I have a few ideas,” she said simply, and closed the final inches between them. Crowley was amazed at her brazenness as she crushed her lips to his. For a few moments he let her, feeling she wanted to devour him at the same time she wanted to invite him to more. After he felt he gave her full opportunity to reconsider, and decided she's fully committed to presenting a sexual request, he resigned any further dissuasion and pulled her in for full effect. They entwined, and Crowley parted his lips to allow her access.

Anathema, in full demonic embrace, somehow found a way to twist her leg behind his and, leaning her centre of gravity forward (and the edge of her foot into the back of his calf) buckled his knees. He yelped as he folded to the ground, and her body fell atop his. 

“Will you admit it?” she asked, pressing most of her weight to his pelvis, her hands using the rest of it to pin his shoulders to the ground.

His mind blurred and he mumbled, “oh you are good.”

“You're not going to say it, are you,” she asked, and for the first time in the duration of their interaction, Crowley could sense a bit of playfulness enter into things. She leaned down and nipped her way from his neck to his collarbone.

Thank Lord Satan for that. He wasn't one for all that serious sex-magic stuff, although he felt he was more than capable. He let his fingers toy down her body, and grumbled, “what is this thing you're wearing, wool tapestry?”

“It's called a statement coat,” she said. “Fashion.” She drew her hands over his jacket front and shook her head disapprovingly. “Off.”

Crowley raised himself slightly and allowed her to pull it off of him. “What else do you have to insult me with,” he asked, bemusedly.

“Oh everything,” she said, curling his silver tie around her fingers. “What is this, a shoelace? Off.” She flung it aside. Her fingers moved down the buttons of his shirt until his chest was bared to her gaze. The chain he wore hung coldly against his skin and she allowed it to fall back tight against his neck. “That I like. Keep that on.”

“What about you?” he asked, as her attention moved southward. “I'm getting rather chilly here and you're still wearing 14 layers.”

She stopped and smiled, resting back on her heels. “Well then, perhaps I should change my offering. I thought I'd hold you here and have my way with you until you admitted your mistake. Perhaps I was going at it all wrong. Perhaps I should hold you here and NOT have my way with you UNTIL you admit your wrongdoing.”

Crowley's mind did some mental gymnastics as he weighed her offer over in his head. “Ah, so, I admit to the very demonic action of running over an innocent girl on her bike,” he said, inching forward, “and by that, I also get to request my own pleasures from said girl who will of course, when fully stated, release me from that wretched salt-circle?”

“Close,” Anathema said, “it still has to be my way. But yes. For the most part. Do we have a deal?”

He blinked, just once, leaned down to touch his tongue to his palm (no crude spitting he), then held out his hand. “I drive like the devil and am easily distracted. I'm sorry you dented my car.”

“Are you sure you don't want to hear what I'm into before we agree on this,” she asked hesitantly.

“Honestly, you've impressed me up to this point, I'm actually kind of hoping you'll surprise me. Don't leave me hanging.”

With a heavy handshake they sealed the deal. “Here's the first thing you could help with,” said Anathema, and presented the back of her dress to the demon.

Crowley ran his hands over the fabric until his fingertips touched the zipper. His body leaned in, and he touched his lips to her neck and whispered, “I like your dress actually.” Slid the zipper down to free the full expanse of her back, flicking the clasp of her bra as he went. He laid his chest against her skin and felt her recline towards him. With another smooth movement, she twisted out of her ensemble to face him and wrapped him in her embrace.

“Thanks,” she said huskily, and began working at his belt even as her mouth enveloped his. Her bare breasts rose and fell with her breath, nipples brushing delicately against him. They worked the rest of their clothes off, he easing his fingers down the slope of he belly, ruffling the silken hair beneath, finally drawing down deeper to the slick of her. And she, freeing the expensive snake clasp of his belt buckle, inching his zipper down, and freeing the rise of his erection to pulse against her palm.

Her hands continued to explore the full extent of his body, running up his sides, over his sharp shoulders, his tightly muscled neck, to massage his temples and stroke back to tangle in his hair. He in turn kept one hand busy between her legs, dipping his fingers to his mouth to wet them, then diving back down to lavish attention on every silken fold of her. His other hand roamed over her strong smooth buttocks, her broad back, pulling to press her into him, to feel her weight fully upon him.

With a sigh, she slid down, away from his touch, and held his hands in hers, lowering herself to nest between his legs. “You are everything I hoped you'd be,” she said before taking his length into the velvet warmth of her mouth.

“I should hope so,” Crowley sighed as she let her head bob gently over him. He felt her tongue dash out to flatten and draw along his scrotum, folding against the underside of his cock as her soft pallet welcomed the head. “Hell, you're good at that.” She grinned, and he felt the graze of her teeth as she did it, and he arched back and into her mouth deeper. He struggled halfheartedly to free from her grip but she held his hands tight, not allowing him escape.

The wet of him, precum and saliva, spilled from her lips as she drew off of him, producing a moan from the demon at her withdraw. She leaned into him and let him smell his own musk, let him taste himself on her as she delved her tongue deeply into his waiting open mouth. “Now I have another favor to ask,” she leaned to whisper in his ear. “I want to be inside you. More than my tongue or my hand, I want to peg you and thrust into you until you spill all over yourself.”

“Would you like that?” he breathed, “would you like to have me?” She pulled her hands away from his and ran them down his thighs, pealing off his jeans even as he continued to talk. “Would you like to fuck me until I can't take it anymore and I beg you to make me cum?”

“Yes, I would.” Her hips had started to grind against his with the motion of a rolling sea. She stoked the back of his bare thighs, and pulled them up so that his ass rested between her legs. She looked down and saw he had provided her with a glistening black leather harness.

“And yet you'll continue to fuck me, won't you?” he asked, rising up on his elbows to gaze at her. “You ramming into me, grinding me into the ground.”

Anathema laid her hand on the harness and felt the tight smoothness of it. She drew down her hip, down the furrow where he hip met, to her crotch, and felt a thick rise fill her hand. Glancing down, she couldn't withhold a gasp as a seven-inch strap-on materialized in front of her, dripping with lube. “That works,” she managed.

She was all business really, when it came right down to it. She ran her hand over the toy and reached down to his ass, stroking along his crack, running up and along his cock, tugging his balls, and then falling mercilessly back down to his tight hole. He relaxed into the feeling and let his head fall back, “You want me to be loud,” he stated, “don't you? You want me to cry out with passion as you enter. Want me to tell you how good it feels?”

“Do whatever you like,” she said, slipping the tip of her middle finger into him. He growled deep in his chest. She kept on, returning to the glistening dong for more lube, and back into him, in to one knuckle, then out. He moaned. She fucked him then with her finger, pulsing into him and smoothly withdrawing, only to thrust in again.

He bent himself back and grasped at the ground beneath them. “More,” he begged, “more!”

She laid two fingertips to him and let him arch to take her. A moan escaped her own lips as she dove deep into the soft dark reach of him. Her hips rolled, and the tip of the dong brushed against his ass. A cry escaped his throat and she asked, “you ready?”

“Yes,” he cried, “more, dammit fill me!”

She withdrew her fingers inch by inch, then, before they had even left him, pressed the head of the dong into him. It was dripping with slick, and she spread her fingers stretching him as he exhaled to slide in deeper. Deeper.

“More,” Crowley writhed, “Let me take you!”

She fully seated herself in his ass, and he ground down onto her.

“Yes, yess.”

“You like that,” she asked, “Does that feel good?” She thrust into him and a sound of animalistic pleasure ripped from his throat. Not words, but a vibrating ferocity and she did it again. And again.

“More more! Fuck me, fuck me hard!” he said, not caring that his cries were cliché or whatever – not really caring about much at that moment except for the feeling she was giving him driving into him over and over and over again. “Fuck yes!”

“Oh fuck, you are sexy,” she finally allowed, “oh you fucking nasty demon.” She rammed into him again, and he reached up and grabbed his own cock as she did. “You going to fuck yourself? You going to make yourself cum?” She slowed a moment, sliding back and forth, hips smooth in their motion, and then pausing fully buried in him. She stayed there deep within him, pressing, throbbing, grinding her hips into him.

Crowley stroked himself harder, “oh don't stop please, oh fuck me I'm close.”

“You don't want me to stop?” She asked and thrust once.

He keened. “More! Yes! Good! More!”

She drove into him for real this time, a pounding sensation as he fucked his own hand with his cock. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her breathing became labored. Her fingernails dug into his hips and she drove in deep. “Damn it,” she gasped, “fuck, fuck me, oh ah!” and her words started to devolve into noise.

In one final pulse, Crowley curled upon himself and his voice joined hers in a deep harsh wail of ecstasy. His cock spurted cum over his hand, onto his belly as he rocked and stroked himself through. Anathema’s movement slowed, and she let herself pant, sweat dripping from her face as his contractions slowed. Finally she pulled out as gently as she could and fell down beside him.

After a few minutes of recovery, she rolled over. "Pretty sweet you thought I was just an innocent girl."

“Shut up,” he said, and she kissed his nose.

“Do I also get three wishes?”

“No, that's djinn.”

“Well someone needs to clean us up.”

“Ah. Yeah. I can do that.”


End file.
